


of katsudons and pirozhkis

by CheshireCaine, Coyoteclaw11, DevinePhoenix, howls, Starrie_Wolf



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Gen, Growth, Originally Posted on Dreamwidth, Rivalry, Sportsfest 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 11:54:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20527607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheshireCaine/pseuds/CheshireCaine, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coyoteclaw11/pseuds/Coyoteclaw11, https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevinePhoenix/pseuds/DevinePhoenix, https://archiveofourown.org/users/howls/pseuds/howls, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starrie_Wolf/pseuds/Starrie_Wolf
Summary: "Are you watching, Katsuki? If you retire now, I'll make you regret it for the rest of your life!"(Or, the 3 times Yuri Plisetsky was inspired by Katsuki Yuuri, and the 1 time Katsuki Yuuri was inspired back.)





	of katsudons and pirozhkis

**Author's Note:**

> [Original post](https://sportsfest19-mr1.dreamwidth.org/2074.html)
> 
> _DevinePhoenix - pre-series, Yuri's PoV_   
_howls - episode 3, Yuri's PoV_   
_Starrie_Wolf - episode 7, Yuri's PoV_   
_CheshireCaine - episodes 9-10, Yuuri's PoV_   
_Coyoteclaw11 - art_

Before they even meet in person, Yuri had heard of Katsuki Yuuri. Or to be more precise, he had seen him. Among the many videos of this season’s performances that the old man gave him to watch, one skater’s programmes fascinate him, and he can't help but replay those videos multiple times. Each time there is something new to notice and appreciate, like a flower slowly opening to reveal its inner colours one by one.

Viktor's performance is as loud and showy as ever, nothing he hasn’t seen before in practice. In fact, he’d had already seen the routine so it’s no surprise. He does study it anyway, for Viktor’s impeccable jumping technique. Christopher's programme is as extra and disgusting as ever; he can see why the two showboats are friends. Georgio is as extra and dramatic as possible, also very usual.

But amongst the usual there is a performance that is very unusual. To him at least.

It is not loud and showy and full of big jumps and flourishes. In fact, it is almost quiet.

But Yuri had never seen anyone _dance_ so smoothly on the ice. His step sequences are quick and precise and smooth as slick liquid. Compared to many of his peers (like showboat drama queen Viktor) his costume is dark and subtle, just like his performance.

The routine isn’t perfect. The man pops jumps and falls out of them. The jumps are obviously a struggle for him. But as soon as he hits the choreography, he’s as elegant and steady as a polished opal. Multifaceted with hidden subtle depths that shine with all the colours of the rainbow, like an oil slick when looked at in the right way.

Yuri can’t help watching it over and over, before digging up recordings of Katsuki's previous routines and devouring those too. It’s such a different style compared to the Russia powerhouses he’s surrounded by. Too used to big flashy jumps defining a routine rather than the choreography or the little parts.

For all that he admires Viktor, the giant loudmouth, and wants to learn from him and snatch his crown when he becomes a senior, he’d rather learn that grace.

It has balletic roots for sure, with those wide graceful arm motions. But it looks nothing like the other male Russian skaters that he knows did ballet on the side. They have strong arm movements, for all it is the same motion at heart.

(A few years later he will come to regret wanting to learn that. As the old lady will whip him into shape with the terrors of _female_ ballet dancing. He can’t help but be a little awed of Katsuki Yuuri after that.)

_I’m sorry, Grandfather. I’m sorry that I don’t understand ‘agape,’ yet_, Yuri thinks as he buries the pain of failure and smiles for the crowd. The last thing he needs is people critiquing him on how much he entertained the crowd.  
  
After changing out of his — Viktor’s — skating outfit, Yuri goes to watch Yuuri skate. He knew something would be different once Yuuri got onto the ice, that something about Yuuri had changed overnight, and it was making him pissed. He ignores the reporters trying to get another word out of him, pushing his way through until the minimal security steps in, and settles behind Viktor. The man only smiles and nods at him before turning back to the rink, an intense focus in his eyes and his body still for once.  
**  
**_Tch, looks like the bastard isn’t messing around_, Yuri notes with a scowl.

**  
**Yuuri eventually shakes his anxiety off enough to step on the rink, though from this distance Yuri can see his hands shaking. As he watches Yuuri glide to the center of the ice, Yuri knows who will be the winner of this competition. If he’s being honest with himself, Yuri knew who the winner was going to be the moment this stupid competition was proposed.

He’s quiet as Yuuri skates. Scoffs when Yuuri falls, because of course, Yuuri falls. A frown tugs at his lips and he sneaks another glance at Viktor. His eyes are bright, and a hand covers his mouth. _He’s smiling_, a voice whispers somberly in his head, and he looks away. When Yuuri nails the triple toe loop, Yuri decides he’s seen enough and leaves before Yuuri is done.

He already knew what the end result is going to be, and _yet_ —

Yuri slams the door open and marches out of the building. He wants out of here, wants to be back home where it’s familiar, where there’s no Yuuri or fucking Viktor. No needless competitions where he’s wasting his time instead of practising (under someone who _wants_ to teach him). No more standing aside and watching Viktor pay more attention to Yuuri than he’s shown anything in _years_. No more —

“Yurio-kun!” Yuuko shouts.

Yuri stops. He clenches the handle of his suitcase so hard it creaks. She’s trying to talk to him, he can hear her voice over the rush of blood in his ears, but nothing registers.

“I already know the results,” he croaks out. Tears are gathering at the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill over. The helplessness he’s been fighting off since stepping in unknown territory, the ache from moving to Viktor’s wavering whim and being on the end of Yuuri’s kindness, despite how much Yuri snarled — it overwhelms him. Skating his routine perfectly but still knowing he isn’t going to win, then watching Yuuri mess up and _know_ that the other skater is going to _win_ —

_No_, Yuri grits his teeth and presses his lips together, _I refuse_.

“I’m going to keep going under Yakov.” Well, he’ll train under Yakov, but the man doesn’t exactly know that yet. “Later. _Do svidaniya_.”

“I see…” Yuuko murmurs. Her voice is feeble, and it sounds like she’s going to cry. It’s the straw that breaks the metaphorical camel’s back to his control.

“Don’t get me wrong! I’m the one who’ll win at the Grand Prix Final! Tell _him_ that!” He barely manages to hide the tremor in his voice before stalking off to the bus stop. There’s a sniffle behind him, and Yuuko says something, but he can’t hear her anymore and keeps walking.

He’s only at the stop for a few minutes, rubbing at his face and trying to keep his breathing even when the bus arrives. Yuri steps onto the bus, leaving Viktor and Yuuri behind. He slumps into a window seat, going the extra mile and throwing his legs onto the aisle seat next to him. Pulling his phone out, Yuri opens his message app and finds Yakov right at the top, a high number of unread messages next to his name. He ignores the unread messages and shoots him a quick text: _I’m coming back. Viktor is staying. Later._

Before putting his phone away, Yuri sends a quick message to his grandfather that he’s on his way home, then plugs his headphones in and relaxes.  
**  
**_See you at the competition, porky. You’re not going to win so easily._

That damned pig.

Yuri stomps into the rink on his skates, almost running into Georgi as he rounds the corner.

Yakov, Mila... he can feel their stares boring into his back, disapproving and judgemental.

He sucks in a deep breath, and at the last moment makes for the railing instead of the ice to grudgingly start on his stretches. He’s not going to march onto the ice without warming up first, even if his blood’s boiling, because he’s not a child, and he’s not stupid, no matter what Viktor and Yakov and even Katsudon seem to think.

Screw them, and screw that.

A quadruple flip at the end of his short program? Who does Katsuki think he is, _Viktor Nikiforov?_

Don’t make Yuri laugh. Two months ago, Katsuki hadn’t even been able to land a clean quadruple Salchow with any kind of consistency! Just because Viktor’s agreed to be his coach, that doesn’t give him the right —

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

Mila’s finally getting off the ice, which makes it Yuri’s individual rink time, since _Viktor_ isn’t around. Won’t be around.

Yuri yanks his skate covers off, drops them carelessly on the floor, and flings himself onto the ice. He spins, once, and then gives in to the urge to throw himself into a triple axel, raising an arm above his head just to prove that he can.

He doesn’t quite land the jump, the altered centre of gravity throwing his balance off just the tiniest bit, and he ends up over-rotating, catching himself on the ice with one hand.

“Yuri!” Yakov barks.

Yuri ignores him.

He can do this. He’s been doing triple axels for the past two years, and quads for at least ten months, even though Yakov wouldn’t let him actually use them in competition. A mere quad with a simple entry… that sort of thing might be impressive when he was competing in the juniors, but he’s on a different stage altogether right now. If he wants to get into the Grand Prix, if he wants to _win_ the Grand Prix, he’s got to do better than the poor showing he gave at the ice exhibition.

Yuri scowls at the reminder.

He may have lost during _Onsen on Ice_, but he knows his strengths and he knows Katsuki’s biggest weakness — other than Viktor and pork cutlet bowls.

Katsuki’s not the best at jumps.

That’s fine. _Yuri_ happens to be great at them. He knows it, Yakov knows it, Viktor knows it, and even Katsuki knows it, since Katsuki came to him for advice.

So what if his step sequences will never be as flawless as Katsuki’s, if his sit-spins look mechanical rather than beautiful? If he can just increase the technical difficulty of his whole program, if he can do every jump with an arm — _both_ arms — raised...

Just he wait, the pig bastard. During the Rostelecom Cup, Yuri’s going to flatten him like a _pirozhki_.

Yuuri has a long time to think in the airport, waiting for Viktor and Makkachin. It’s an eternity between each lift and the next drop as his toe taps the floor.

It’s the right time to think about Yuri — Yuri doesn’t really float past his mind at all then, he can’t have. Even if his grandpa’s pork cutlet _pirozhkis_ were like fireworks lighting up his taste buds and clouding his nostrils with the spiced pong of home. Yuri isn’t something to be considered until much later.

Yuuri sits on the bridge between his home and the rink. He figures it’s close enough to the bridge in Moscow that it’s fine to snap his teeth into a pork cutlet sandwich — as close as he can get to a pork cutlet bowl without his family stringing him up by the skates for rule-breaking, and far enough from a bowl that he can compare it to the pastries.

There’s a sea of time after the Rostelecom Cup and before the Grand Prix Final, and Yuuri has chosen to spend a lick of it munching down on that sandwich and wondering.

What if, what if Viktor hadn’t come into his life? What if he didn’t have all of the support of everyone who loved him? What if he’d given up like he’d seriously thought? ... What if Yuri hadn’t gotten mad enough at Viktor’s behaviour to come all the way down to Hasetsu to drag him back?

An unlikely story. 

The Yuri Plisetsky of then was a prodigy skater but shit-tempered. Now, he’s more of a prodigy skater but ... still pretty shit-tempered.

No, that does him a disservice.

Yuri is _complicated_. It’s stupid to pretend he’s hissing rage alone, but you have to be in denial to consider his skating to be the only good thing about him. Yuuri swallows a bite in that moment and — tears of relish streaming down his face — is forced to conclude that Yuri has many great qualities and the _pirozhkis_ were proof of that.

He’d kicked Yuuri and called him that stupid nickname for the eighty-second time but it was . . . for show. The Yuri under all the veneers of pride and invulnerability is a smiling boy with unguarded warmth for his beloved grandfather and the food he’d made him. He’s a teenager so he’ll deny it but he’d chased after Yuuri with a birthday gift catered to his tastes, so Yuuri isn’t inventing the good will.

And anyway, that doesn’t even begin to cover Yuri’s importance. Yuri, the young man who demands nothing but excellence from Yuuri even as he flies up the mountain, beyond Yuuri’s admiring, clasping fingers. Shouting back at him to stick his feet in and climb up already.

He isn’t going to take credit away from himself. But he won’t be going to Barcelona without Viktor’s belief and his family’s support and Yuri’s propelling rivalry.

Viktor, he’s going to spend a lifetime thanking. His family and friends, well, they’ll probably ensure he lives up to his potential if he ever wants to see a pork cutlet bowl again. Yuuri appreciated the effort to keep him humble — it can be worse, it can be a rebuke by Viktor.

He laughs, mouth muffled by his scarf. Holding hands with Viktor, thinking of a gold medal glinting between their entangled fingers, and he can’t help but think to himself:

_And thank you, Yuri. For pushing me here with all your might._


End file.
